Edge of Memory
by thereisanothersky
Summary: In a very confusing turn of events, Rose ends up in the Void, has a chat with the TARDIS (who tells her that she's not human!) and then gets sent to 1913... with no memories. That John Smith DOES look familiar, though...
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! First story, woohoo! Let's all have virtual cake and celebrate :D Anyways, this starts off in third person, present tense, and then goes into third person, past tense. The chapters will be from either the Doctor's, Rose's, or Martha's point of view. Just so you guys know, none of this is planned. The writing will probably be a bit bumpy, but oh well :P Enjoy!**

**1.**

"Once the breach collapses, that's IT. You're never going to see her again, your own mother!"

He desperately wants her to realize the gravity of the decision she is making, just by staying with him. She would never see her family again, never talk to them, never be able to hold them when they're sad or cheer with them when they're happy…

"I made my choice a long time ago, and _I'm never gonna leave you._ So what can I do to help?" She says, a determined look in her eye. He knows that look. She's not going to go.

He shoves down the feelings that plague his hearts as he stares at her, the traitorous rush of adrenaline and happiness swirling through him. She had chosen _him_, over her family. She had said she was going to stay with him forever. She was telling the truth.

He jerks back into reality. He points towards a computer. "Those co-ordinates over there, set them all at six…"

But his Rose, his Pink and Yellow Human, doesn't know how much the separation from her family is going to hurt. There will be a slight emptiness in her heart, a little bit of hopelessness in her head. Not as much pain as he had gone through when Gallifrey was destroyed, but pain, nonetheless. He hates to see her hurt…

"…And hurry up!" He is surprised at how sharp his voice sounds. Rose flinches and complies, taking the vortex button off from around her neck as she does so.

"_Levers Operational," _the computer says. As more time passes, it seems more likely that his plan is going to work. He grins.

Rose catches a glimpse of it and her eyes light up. "That's more like it, bit of a smile! The old team!" She exclaims, bouncing a little on her heels.

He picks up a surprisingly light magnaclamp and strides over to her. "Hope and Glory, Mutt and Jeff, Shiver and Shake!"

"Which one's Shiver?" She asks, and he aims a teasing look at her.

"Oh, I'm Shake," he said, giving her the magnaclamp. "Press that red button."

He picks up another one and attaches it to the wall. He watches as Rose does the same. Her hands are slightly shaky, he notes. Worry crept into the back of his mind, because if her hand slipped, _if he lost her in the void…_

He shakes himself before his thoughts become even more disturbing. "When it starts, just hold on tight. Shouldn't be too bad for us, but the Daleks and the Cybermen are steeped in Void Stuff." He pauses a fraction of a second. "Are you ready?" He finds himself asking her that out loud, but she looks in his eyes and he knows she can see the real question. _Are you sure you want to do this?_

In response, she heads towards her lever and wraps her hands around it. She stares out the window. "So are they," she stated. There was something…final in her voice. He whipped his head around to see Daleks at the window.

"Let's do this!" He said, taking hold of his own lever and pulling, Rose doing the same. They both reach their magnaclamps before the void can really begin to pull everything in. Daleks and Cybermen began to fly by, into the bright light that is the entrance to the Void. It's deceiving, how pure and innocent the light looks.

He smiles at Rose as the Void Wind desperately gorges on the metal beings that are being sucked into it. The grin fades instantly when there is a shower of sparks and the lever on Rose's side slides offline.

Oh, Rose.

Oh, sweet, valiant, beautiful, _fantastic _Rose.

She lets go of the magnaclamp, struggling to push the lever back into its original position. Her face is wrinkled with concentration, a whimper escaping her lips. He feels as if stones have been shoved into his throat, his hearts beating faster with each passing second. Suddenly his fears of her falling into the void don't seem so far off now.

"I gotta get it upright!" Rose yells as she grits her teeth, and she gives the lever a final push.

"_Online and locked,"_ The computer says, but he doesn't pay any attention to it; he's only looking at the beautiful blond girl who's straining to get a grip on the lever. The Wind claws at her. The Void wants her, desperately.

"Rose, hold on!" He yells at her. There's a feeling, a feeling that he gets when he's about to lose a companion. It hits him with the force of a nuclear bomb, and he almost lets go of the magnaclamp as waves of anguish rush through his hearts. Rose cries out in despair as her fingers slip a bit more.

"_HOLD ON!"_ He screams, an arm extended out to reach her, but it's useless.

Rose lets go.

Her name is ripped from his mouth as she falls towards the Void, a final plea for someone, _anyone_, to save her. Her name echoes through his mind, an endless _Rose, Rose, Rose… _He can feel his hearts tearing apart inside of him, striving to follow her into Hell.

Rose looks at him, and for a split second everything stops.

_There is something of the wolf about her…_

She is gone. He feels her disappear from his mind, and he feels a swell of madness break out from a part of his mind that he didn't even know that he had. She was gone. She was gone. Gone. Rose Tyler.

Gone.

His hands loosen on the magnaclamp. _I'll be gone with her, _he thinks dizzily. _I'll stay with her forever._

The universe must be against that notion, because the breach implodes, consuming itself before the Doctor could even think of letting go. He lets out a howl of frustration, running up to the wall and beating on it with all of his strength. He feels his skin splitting, but it doesn't matter.

"_No, no, no, no, NO!" _He shrieks. "Take me_, take me instead of her!"_ She should have stayed in Pete's World. She should have never even met him because it's his entire fault and he loves her and now she's gone-

He collapses against the wall. "No," he moans. There are no tears. He is too destroyed for them. He isn't functioning. He can't walk, he can't move, because now the center of his universe is gone and what is he going to orbit around?

A single thought. A single purpose gets him to move.

_A supernova,_ he thinks. _A supernova, to make contact to the parallel universe. I have to tell her family, have to let them know what happened to her._

And then, _very_ calmly, he would buy a bottle of aspirin at the drug store, take them back to the TARDIS, and eat them all.

-:-:-:-

He breaks down before Jackie does.

He had sent her a telepathic message, drawing her to a gap in the universe, so that he could talk to her. He stood before her as she demanded where Rose was, trying to keep a blank expression, but when Jackie finally shut up and looked at him, she knew.

"_What happened to my daughter?" _She yelled, her eyes full of hatred.

He trembled as he told her of how brave Rose was, and that she didn't give up until she knew that all the Daleks and Cybermen were gone.

"She…looked at me," he whispers after he is done telling her the story, and for the first time tears are pouring down his face. Sobs are wracking his thin frame, and Jackie is just staring, in shock. "I was the last thing she saw, before…" And he wails, an unearthly sound of pure loss. Jackie has started to weep, too, her cries echoing through the bay. Bad something, it's called. It doesn't matter.

"Rose…dead…" Jackie sobbed, looking at him through tear-soaked eyes.

It takes a moment, but he pulls himself together and shakes his head. Jackie looks confused, and just a tiny bit _hopeful… _It feels like his insides have been turned to stone. "It's worse," he whispers. "Rose Tyler is alive, but she is trapped in Hell."

Jackie freezes. "No…"

"Cybermen and Daleks all around her…"

"Stop-"

"She probably won't be able to move, just float in terror until she goes absolutely insane-"

"_STOP IT!"_ Jackie screams.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and fades away.

He turns around to face the interior of the TARDIS, and slowly walks over to the console so he could find the nearest pharmacy. His mind is heavy with grief, his hearts hammering a lament for the brilliant Rose Tyler, and he wants to end it all. It was, strangely, like losing Gallifrey all over again. Rose was the person who made him Better, made him slightly less of a vengeful god and slightly more…human. And that was _fantastic_. And now she's gone.

Rose wouldn't have wanted him to do this, but being a different person is the only way he can handle the grief. He puts his head in his hands, just standing there for what feels like hours. He knows that it's only been four minutes and 27.319 seconds-

Wait a minute.

His head jerks up to see a figure in white, facing the door.

"_What?!" _He exclaims.

The figure turns around and he sees that it's a woman. She yelps, staring at him in shock. It's not possible. It's _not _possible and this woman had the absolute _worst_ timing-

"Who are you?" The woman asks scornfully.

"I- I don't-"

"Where am I?" She says, taking a step towards him, eyes blazing with fury.

"It's not possible-" He tries to say, but this woman's not having any of it.

"_What the hell is this place?!" _she yells.

And just like that, the Doctor has a new companion.

**After this, it's Rose, and then it's either the Doctor or Martha…Not sure which one yet… I'm going to post the next chapter immediately after this one, so you'll get an explanation why I decided to be so cruel and dump Rose in the Void. Actually, no. **_**I**_** don't even know why I did that! **


	2. Chapter 2

**So now it's Rose's point of view! I have no idea if this chapter makes any sense at all, but when do things ever make sense in Doctor Who? Enjoy! **

**2.**

Rose groaned as she opened her eyes. She was in…the TARDIS? Last she remembered she was…she was…

"Oh my God!" She screamed, any grogginess she might have had instantly gone. She had fallen in the Void! She should be dead, or worse than dead, by now!

She looked around. If she was in the Void, then it wasn't really that bad of a place… stuck in a delusion that she was in the TARDIS…

But something was off. The room was emanating a golden hue, nothing like the turquoise that she was used to. It wasn't threatening, though. In fact, it was very familiar.

"Hello there!" A recognizable voice rang out. Rose whirled around to face…herself?

"What?! You're…me!" Rose said, but it wasn't quite true. The Rose in front of her was giving off the same golden glow as the TARDIS, and her eyes were glowing with the power of the universe. Ancientness radiated from her, but she was aiming a friendly smile at Rose as she sat down on the TARDIS console.

"Nope," The Golden Rose said, "I'm that blue box that you travel in. It's funny, actually. I'm inside myself! No wonder the Doctor calls me Sexy," she grinned, "I am a _fine _piece of machinery."

Rose gaped at her. "You're…you're the TARDIS?"

Golden Rose frowned. "Yes, but I do prefer Sexy."

Rose felt a smile tug at her face. "Okay, I believe you," she said, and was surprised to find out that it was true. This woman taking the form of her body was the TARDIS. "Why am I here?"

The TARDIS's frown deepened. "Well, if you weren't here, you would be insane by now," she said. "You're in the Void; all of this is happening inside your head."

"If it's all in my head, then why isn't the Doctor here?" Rose asked. "I'm pretty sure that if this is a dream, he would be right here. By my side."

_That_ made the TARDIS smile. "Of course. But who said it was a dream? This could all be real."

"Like in _The Deathly Hallows_ where Harry gets killed and wakes up at that station?"

"Exactly like that!" The TARDIS exclaimed. "Ah, I remember when the Doctor read that to us. It's always better when he reads." At this Rose nodded vigorously.

The TARDIS smirked. "Plus an excuse to cuddle with him, am I right?"

Rose blushed and sputtered, "Well, I wouldn't say…yeah. Okay. I'm just going to ignore that."

The TARDIS nodded smugly. "Well then, I guess I should explain. Please don't interrupt, I rehearsed and everything!"

"Okay," Rose said, nodding. "Tell me what happened."

The TARDIS took a deep breath, and began.

"You and the Doctor were sending the Daleks and Cybermen into the Void, as you can remember. One of the levers that opened the Breach malfunctioned, the one on your side. You, being the valiant child you are, let go of the magnaclamp that was keeping you tethered to the universe so that you could fix it. You succeeded, but you fell into the Void."

The TARDIS shuddered.

"In all my years of traveling with him…I had never seen the Doctor like that. The closest I can think of was when Gallifrey was lost to him… but it was much, much worse, Rose. You were the person who healed him, the one that made him finally feel happy again…and then he lost you."

Rose felt tears pricking at her eyes. "But he _hasn't!"_ She said fiercely. "I'll go back for him, no matter what!"

"That's my little wolf," the TARDIS said happily. "You interrupted me, but oh well, it melds into my speech rather nicely. There's a way you can get back, Rose."

"How?" Rose asked, unable to stop herself.

"I'm not exactly sure _how_ it works," The TARDIS admitted, "but it works. Because you're not human, Rose Tyler."

"What are you talking about?" Rose demanded. "Of course I'm human!"

The TARDIS shot her a look. "How can a mere human take in the entire Time Vortex without dying?" she responded. "Truth is, they can't. When you looked into my heart, I forced myself to bond into your DNA to keep you safe. You're not human- but strangely, you're not a TARDIS, either. Honestly, you're like a Time Lady...TARDIS...human _hybrid_. But you're not that either. You are species unknown. You have one heart...But I expect that to change soon."

Rose couldn't breathe. "What do you mean?" She whispered. The TARDIS hopped off the console and strode over to what looked like a cross between a rod and a torch.

"Stand in front of this, won't you, Rose?" She asked. Rose hesitantly walked over.

"Stand as still as you can," the TARDIS ordered, and a light suddenly scanned over Rose's body. When it was done, the TARDIS pulled up a screen. "Come here," she said.

Rose looked at the screen, confusion written all over her face. Then a look of panic. "Is…is that a tumor?" She asked, pointing at the x-ray. Immediately to the right of her heart, a gray blot marred the otherwise normal readings.

"No, silly!" The TARDIS said. "That's your second heart! It's been growing pretty slowly for a while now, should start beating in a few months. You grow and heal more slowly than a TARDIS or a Gallifreyan."

"Holy-" Rose had to sit down. "I'm a Time Lord," she whispered.

"The term is Time Lady, actually. And you aren't. You're more of a… human that will last a _very_ long time. I bet you won't regenerate, but you have enough regeneration energy in you to heal you from…ah, about three near-fatal occurrences. Oh, and now you've gotten me off track with your interruptions!" the TARDIS said, wiggling a finger at Rose.

Rose looked up at the woman with tears in her eyes, hoping that the TARDIS would understand that she was going through a _major _revelation right now. Apparently not.

"So anyways, since you're practically my sister, I can pull you back from the Void with my huon particles!" The TARDIS continued. "But for some reason, the Void won't let me pull you directly to me. So this is why I need you here, in your head, conversing with me." She kneeled down and looked Rose in the eyes, seeming to realize that Rose was upset.

"Be a brave little wolf," The TARDIS said, "and talk to me." Rose nodded through her tears.

"When you come back, you have to make sure that it was at a point before your birth, to avoid an imbalance in the universe- It can't handle you coming back through the void; the timestreams will be all wonkey. The Doctor will visit two timelines that include those points where you can go. One in 1913, one in 1969."

"Which one will he be in first?" Rose asked.

"Well…1913, but-"the TARDIS started.

"-That one," The human said simply.

"You don't even want me to explain first?" The TARDIS said with an air of frustration.

Rose hesitated. "I guess, but it's simple, right? The sooner I can see him, the better."

"He won't remember you."

"What!?"

The TARDIS sighed. "He and his new companion will be chased by a family, a terrible one that wants to suck out the Doctor's life energy so that they could live forever. I suppose you do have to take a little pity on them; they will only have about three months to live…"

So the Doctor had picked up a new friend already. That hurt a little bit.

"So what?" Rose inquired, jealousy washing over her. "Why won't he remember me?"

"Because he has to become human for those three months, so that the family won't smell him and kill him," the TARDIS explained matter-of-factly. "You would have to do the same, since they could gain equal power by sucking out your life force. You wouldn't have anything to store your memories in, though, so the Doctor would have to forcibly draw them from you, and it's going to _hurt." _

"Okay, okay," Rose said. "Let me get this straight. I could travel to 1913, and see the Doctor again."

"Correct."

"But he wouldn't remember me, and I wouldn't remember him."

"Yes."

"And getting my memories back to me would be painful."

"Mmhm."

"What would it be like if I went to 1969?" Rose asked.

The TARDIS frowned. "You would be much less likely to catch them. They're not there for as long as they are in 1913, and you could end up waiting for the next time they show up in the timeline, which is 2007, I think."

"What should I do?" Rose cried desperately.

"What do you think you should do?"

Rose took a deep breath. "I… I know that it'll be a long shot, but I want 1913. If it means that I'll have more of a chance of seeing him again, I'll take that chance."

The TARDIS nodded, and put cool fingers to her temple. _Be careful, _Rose heard. _I don't have any memories stored with me right now, so you'll have none. You won't know anything, not even your name._ Rose nodded.

_Wi-will you stay with me? _She thought at the TARDIS, nervousness creeping into her thoughts.

_Rose…I'll always be with you, no matter what._

There was a flash, an image of the man that they both loved blinking through their minds, and then everything was gone.

**She's going back! I wonder how John Smith's going to react to the sight of her? Especially since the Doctor thinks she's in the Void…Find out on the next chapter of "Amnesiac Nature!" *****Cue Doctor Who theme music***** (By the way, if you have any other title suggestions, please, PLEASE tell me. I'm terrible with titles XD)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Oh my gosh, you guys are the BEST. Honestly, I didn't even think I'd get one good review; you guys are fantastic! :D I've been super busy with school, but I hurried through this chapter because your reviews made me so happy :) so here's Martha's point of view! I honestly think that Martha would be a great character if she weren't pining over the Doctor all the time :/ maybe I'm biased because, if you couldn't already tell, the Doctor and Rose is my OTP. However, I am forced to make Martha act all lovesick and stuff, which really isn't my forte. Hopefully it's a good portrayal of her. **

**Anyways, sorry if the writing style is off! I started to write this story to mainly focus on developing my writing, but I'm not sure if it's getting worse or better :P Also, I wrote the second half of this on my iPod so I don't know how great the grammar is going to be. That is all. **

**3.**

_Did they see you?_

_I don't know!_

_Did they see you?_

_I don't know; I was too busy running!_

_Martha, it's important- did they see your face?_

_No, they couldn't have._

The conversation played over and over in Martha's head as she brought the Doctor his breakfast. Everything had happened so suddenly. One moment she was having the time of her life on a tropical planet, the next, she was stuck in bloody _1913!_ With a man who didn't even remember her, or anything about his real life.

Martha sighed. Maybe she should've been used to the bizarreness by now, after months of traveling with the Doctor, but everything still seemed so surreal. When he had first met her, the Time Lord had seemed so… sad. And lonely. When he had offered to take her through the stars and beyond the grasp of time, it was more pleading than asking.

_Please, come with me. I don't want to be alone anymore,_ he had silently begged her, but at the same time, _Please, refuse, I don't want you to get hurt._ She could see the despondency in his eyes, almost expecting to be rejected.

He had a desperate, almost mad look to him, and Martha's caring nature overtook her. She had to help this man. So she followed him, followed him through the path of time and space. She met Shakespeare, she helped to defeat the Daleks in New York, she and her family faced death at the hands of Lazarus- and in that short time, she came to love the Doctor and his madness.

And then this happened.

A terrible family, the Family of Blood was close to death, so they hunted the Doctor in hopes of absorbing his life force. This had forced him to seal his Time Lord consciousness in a fob watch and become human for a short three months.

Short. Yeah, right.

The last few months of being harassed by almost everybody here and forced to do menial labor did not bode well with Martha. She was used to being a free, independent woman, dammit, and being insulted by schoolboys made her want to punch their lights out. It was frustrating, knowing that she was more intelligent than anybody in this town, but being treated like she was mentally challenged because of her dark skin.

Martha knocked on the Doctor's door, taking a deep breath to calm her resentful thoughts.

"Come in," she heard him say. That was not the Doctor's voice. The Doctor's voice was always thick with excitement and alertness, technobabble slurred together into an amalgamation of brilliance. This voice was calm and mellow, layered with sleep. It was easier to distinguish the human Doctor from the original, Martha thought, when she could hear him speak.

She entered quietly, and soon realized that the Doctor was only in his pajamas. Normally she wouldn't care (she had seen men in skimpy hospital gowns; why would jim jams bother her?) but in 1913, people were prudes.

"Pardon me, Mr. Smith, you're not dressed yet. I can come back later-" she said, edging towards the door.

"No, it's alright," he said, now wearing a robe, "put it down."

Martha did as he said, keeping her eyes low. She always did that, around him. She was afraid that if he saw her eyes, he would see that she thought of him as much, much more than a man-she was afraid that he would see the truth.

"I was, um..." the Doctor would never pause, or stumble over his words, but apparently John Smith did. "Sorry, sorry. It's just that sometimes I have these...extraordinary dreams."

The Doctor had told her that he would eventually dream of his old life. Martha wondered what exactly those dreams entailed...

"What about, sir?" she asked, genuinely curious.

He hesitated. "I dream I'm this...Adventurer. This...daredevil, a madman. 'The Doctor', I'm called. And last night I dreamt that you were there, as my... companion."

Martha concealed her smile and crossed over to the breakfast tray. "A teacher and a housemaid, sir? That's impossible," she said.

"A man from another world, though," he murmured, running a hand through his hair. "He didn't care about what you did, or what you looked like...he had many companions. Most of them were females, though, can't imagine why." He shook his head, a smile forming on his face.

"It sounds impossible," Martha said truthfully.

"I know," the Doctor said, staring at that fob watch on his mantle. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. "This watch, though... It was in the dream, too..."

Martha felt both panic and hopefulness strike her. _Open it,_ one part of her mind yelled. The other, more rational part of her thoughts demanded that he put it down.

He listened to the latter, putting it down with a sigh.

"Ah, it's funny how dreams slip away," he said, almost sadly. "But I do remember one thing; it all took place in the future! In the year of Our Lord two thousand and seven!"

Martha smiled. "Of course it did, Mr. Smith," she replied. "But let's not get too wrapped up in our dreams. It's the 1st of November, 1913, and you're completely human."

The Doctor smiled back at her, and it was such a Doctor-like grin that it took her breath away.

"Mmm, that's me. Completely human."

-:-:-:-

Martha was joking around with Jenny when Matron Redfern sprinted across the room, a look of obvious horror on her face. Martha sprang to her feet, her mind instantly going to the worst conclusion-the Family had come, and they had killed the Doctor... She ran after the Matron, ignoring Jenny's confused calls to her. The nurse was much faster than Martha expected, by the time they arrived at a field about two miles away, she was clutching her side, panting heavily. Joan, however, was in doctormode- Martha recognized it well. Joan Redfern was too intent on her work to pay attention to her own physical condition. She was crouched over the small figure of a woman, checking for a pulse, seeing if there was any obstruction in her throat, feeling for any bumps on her head. A teenage boy was standing by, pale-faced.

"I just...found her," he was saying. "Layin' there, blue lips and skin like a ghost. And those strange clothes..."

Martha looked at the woman sharply, and saw that she was indeed wearing present-day clothing. Her hair was a bleached blond, her dark eyebrows and roots were proof of that. Her eyes were rimmed with slightly smeared makeup. Martha couldn't help but feel that she should know this girl, but the face stayed unfamiliar as the Matron and boy lifted her up. Martha snapped out of her thoughts and rushed over to help.

They slowly trudged to the infirmary, the girl's head lolling despite Martha's attempts to get it still. When they finally arrived, about forty five minutes had passed, and all three of them were feeling the burn. The girl was light, but the dead weight made it difficult for them to carry her comfortably. Martha was relieved to set her down on the medical bed. The boy who found her tipped his hat and quietly left the room.

Nurse Redfern got her medical kit. "I've already determined that she has no fractures or broken bones. No sign of head trauma." she pulled out a stethoscope and set it against the girl's chest. "Hmm... Irregular heartbeat..."

"Maybe just premature ventricular contractions?" Martha asked before she could stop herself. Joan looked at her, surprised, and nodded her head. "Yes, she said slowly, "that would make sense...but how could you possibly know that?"

Martha mentally cursed herself. She had done so well, for two whole months, and now she had to go and ruin it all with a single sentence!

"Uh...in my spare time, I go to the library and read," She said, a little bit lamely.

"There's no books on the cardiovascular system in the library," Joan countered.

Martha, ignoring the stab of panic that assaulted her, had an inkling that she would be more convincing if she told at least half a truth. "Look, Matron Redfern…I've always-ever since I was a little girl- wanted to be a doctor. I know that right now, it's not possible, but I can't help but hope..." she trailed off. Joan's demeanor changed into a sympathetic one and, thankfully, dropped the subject. She turned back to the girl, examining her face.

"She looks...sad," Joan murmured. "And old. Like she's an old woman, trapped in this young body."

Martha examined the girl's face, and agreed with the nurse. Lines of hardship, of worry and joy and the sights of the universe outlined her face. She recognized the look. It was there every time she stared in the mirror. It was in the face of the man she loved.

And now, it was here, in the face of this young woman.

The heavy makeup, the clothes, the hair- how could she have possibly overlooked it when she first saw her? Granted, she was more concerned about the girl's physical state at the time, but now, as she looked down upon her young, but impossibly old face...

Martha realized that this girl was a time traveler.

**DUN DUN DUN. That was exciting, wasn't it? No? No. Okay then. I was planning on having more John Smith in here, but plans never really work out all that well with me, so there's a lot of Martha and Joan! **

**I bet you're all wondering who this mysterious blonde girl is, right? I mean, it's not like you've witnessed a conversation between her and the TARDIS revealing that she's going back to 1913 in the previous chapter or anything... **

**Also, dear readers, who's point of view should I write from next time? Did you like this chapter? Hate it? What could I do to improve it? Please, review and share your thoughts :D Thankya! **


	4. Chapter 4

**You know what…you guys are the BEST! I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but I got distracted (watching Doctor Who) and I was fangirling about Billie Piper and David Tennant coming back for the 50****th ****! I was actually screaming, and my family was just looking at me like I was insane... So, after much delay, here's the 4****th**** chapter! **

**4.**

When she finally managed to tear herself away from the grasp of unconsciousness, the first thing that she realized was that she wasn't alone. She was lying in a slightly uncomfortable bed, swathed in the cloudy light coming from the windows. The strange, white room that she was in was empty, but there was a presence that was talking to itself, in her head. It seemed to be muttering, almost pacing through the thoughts in her mind. She strained to hear it's frustrated voice, curious and slightly afraid.

_Ugh, the trip through the Void must've bound my soul to her mind, somehow. Voidstuff, gross, it's like glue. Sticky, sticky glue. How did I not see this coming? Everything just got much more complicated…Come on, you're the most powerful machine in the universe; you can figure something out! Think!_

For some reason, everything about that little monologue made her want to shove it to the back of her mind so that she could forget everything about it. At first, it sounded like gibberish, but there was something familiar-but-not-familiar about those words that let out little screams of _danger, danger, don't remember! _

"Who are you?" She whispered, her heart racing.

The voice paused.

_Wow, I'm losing my edge, _it mused in her mind, _I didn't even notice that you had awoken. How are you feeling, Little Wolf? _

She sat up, the bedsprings creaking, and sifted through everything her mind held. It wasn't much. "I can't…remember anything…" She said slowly, trying to grasp some sort of recollection that would tell her who she was. "Is Little Wolf my…name?"

The voice laughed. It was oddly double-toned, almost musical. Its warbling notes of amusement rang out in her mind. _Good, at least that part of the plan held out…no, child, it's not your name. Not your real name, at least. The- There will be someone who'll know your name. I can't risk telling you anything while I'm in your mind, because then it's a possibility that my memories may trigger your residual ones…and we can't have that, can we?_

"Why not?" She asked. After a moment, she added, "And you never answered my question. Who are you, exactly?"

_Because there's power in those memories, my dear Wolf! The Family will sense it and kill you, _the voice said cheerfully, ignoring the latter query.

She closed her eyes and pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose, forced the oncoming headache away, and tried to ignore the new questions bubbling up. She failed miserably.

"So…What's the Family? Why do they want to kill me just because my memories have 'power?' Will I ever get them back? And for the last time, _who are you?"_ The words rushed out of her mouth in a torrent, despite her conscious attempts to ask one question at a time.

_I'm glad that this is the last time you're asking; I don't like avoiding your questions. Being enigmatic around you isn't fun at all! _The voice exclaimed.

She groaned angrily. She would drop the subject. For now.

"And what about my other questions?" She inquired loudly, frustrated with this stupid, baffling voice.

_Oh, you don't need to know what the Family is. The less you know, the better! _The voice declared. _But of course you'll get your memories back. I wouldn't have wiped them if you couldn't. You'll get them back in…four more weeks? Three? It all depends on how fast the Family dies. _

Her forehead wrinkled. What was she going to say to that? Everything that the voice said brought up new questions, and she knew from the last five minutes that it would never answer them. She settled on the safest bet: a quizzical, drawn-out "Okkaaayyyy?"

The indifference of this being was disconcerting. And more importantly, she was very uncomfortable with the thought of the amnesia lifting with someone's death.

_Oh no, dear, it's not like that at all! _The voice cried. Apparently, it could read her thoughts, too. Strangely, this didn't bother her as much as it should've. _Your memories will be set free by the-a person who's waiting for the Family's death before he comes out of hiding. Your memories don't depend on another's demise, dear. Don't worry about it; trust me._

She nodded silently. Even if she couldn't remember everything, there was an itch at the back of her mind, telling her that this situation was not normal by any standards…well…there was another not-so-normal situation that she was in once…

The idea was suddenly shoved away with an incredible amount of force, and she barely stifled her cry of pain as it was ripped from her thoughts. It was like… a vacuum. Something was vacuuming her brain, sucking away all the dirt and dust in the far corners of her mind. What was happening?

_I'm so sorry, Little Wolf_, the voice said dejectedly. _I'm so, so sorry. I don't know how, but a stray memory managed to escape my mind wipe and was crawling up. I couldn't risk it causing a chain reaction and triggering other memories. I had to destroy it. It wasn't a very important memory, but it hurt nonetheless. Please don't try to remember anything, please. I don't want to damage any of the bigger memories._

"Yeah, kinda got that," she murmured. She tried her best not to question the voice, but inquisitiveness seemed like the most constant feeling that occurred in her. "Anyways, even if I don't know who you are, what should I call you? What should I call myself?"

There was a slight hesitation. _You can call me…Sidrat. _

Laughter suddenly echoed through the caverns of her mind. _Rassilon, I come up with the most terrible aliases. It sounds like a gangsta boy's street name! At least it's somewhat creative, though. My th-friend uses the same cover name all the time. It's awful; even a child could pick out that alias…and for you, your name bearer should be coming soon. In three seconds, in fact! In three…two…_

The door swung open and a very prim looking woman strode in, a confused man right behind her. She was talking to him, and as the woman got closer she could hear what she was saying.

"-And tell me this, John, is this a dream?" The woman gestured at her, lying in a rickety medical bed with wide eyes. The woman spoke calmly, but there were flickers of bewilderment on her face. _She doesn't know what to make of the situation she's in, _she realized.

The man, John, stopped dead when he saw her, staring in puzzlement at him from the bed. She cocked her head. It was like… she knew him, from a dream…long, long ago…

_Wait for it…_ Sidrat whispered.

A single word ripped its way through the man's throat. The unexpected, immense pain in that voice made her flinch. Strangely enough, it also gave her the urge to slip her hand in his, give him a hug and a kiss and tell him that everything was going to be alright.

"Rose."

She let go of the odd compulsion and smiled in delight. This was that name bearer that Sidrat was talking about!

She felt a tug of familiarity at the word, urging her to recall something, but she reluctantly shoved it down. Sidrat hummed reassuringly. "So that's my name!" she crowed happily, getting up from her bed. Her name seemed to fit into a small corner of her thoughts perfectly, one found puzzle piece of her memories.

John winced. "No—I mean—what? Who are you?"

"No idea," Rose said nonchalantly, walking towards him. He backed up with every step she took. "My name is Rose, according to you…yes, Rose feels right! Don't remember anything besides that, though. Who're you?"

"Er—um—I—" John stuttered. The bizarre, pained look in his eyes was gone, replaced with absolute befuddlement. He seemed to be at a loss for words. Poor bloke.

"John Smith, he's a teacher here," The woman with him said. "I'm Nurse Redfern, and you should _not _be up so soon after waking up. Please lay back down."

Rose frowned at her, but complied. She felt John's eyes scrutinizing her every move as she walked towards the bed.

"_Why is he staring at me?" _She hissed to the presence in her mind, the words barely hearable. She sat down in the middle of the bed, her legs folded over each other.

Sidrat chuckled. _You do realize that you don't need to speak for me to hear you, right? _She said with amusement. _Poor John Smith's just had a slight shock, that's all. _

Rose wrinkled her nose. _Why? _She thought, perplexed.

_Why don't you find out, Little Wolf? _

"Um…so…could anybody tell me what's going on?" Rose asked as Nurse Redfern took out a stethoscope and started to listen to her heart and lungs.

"Still irregular," The nurse muttered, took out a small notebook from her pocket, and jotted something down on it. She looked up at Rose. "A boy found you, unconscious in a field. No head trauma at all, though, and no broken bones either. The only abnormality is the irregular heartbeat—do you feel dizzy? Short of breath? Can you feel your heart beat more forcefully than usual?"

Rose shook her head. "I don't know what the usual is for me," she said. "Everything _feels _normal, though—" A sudden rush of pain went through her head, and she gasped, hands pressing to her forehead. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners. _So much for normal, _she thought, her head pounding.

"Never mind," she panted, clutching her cranium and resisting the urge to bang it against a wall. "Definitely not normal—Painful."

Cool fingers lightly pressed against her temples, massaging them gently. Rose thought it was Nurse Redfern for a moment, but a soft voice proved that thought wrong.

"My mother used to get headaches all the time," John Smith murmured soothingly, "and this always helped her. Feel better?" Rose opened her eyes. The pain was still there, but at least it was a little more tolerable. She looked up at John's soft, concerned eyes—eyes that were _so_ familiar—and nodded.

_I'm sorry, Dear, that headache's going to last all night, _Sidrat said regretfully. _Your mind is adjusting to my presence; it's not used to having me in there._

"Well that's just _great_," Rose muttered, _"Fantastic." _Despite her head throbbing, her lips curled upwards. There was something funny about that word…_Nope._ Nope. She had to keep everything all stored away or else the Family (whoever they were) would get her.

"Sorry?" John said, and Rose groaned. She hadn't meant to speak out loud.

"Sorry, yeah, just talking myself through the headache," she said quickly, hoping that her response made sense. Apparently it did; the confusion of John's face cleared up. He turned to Nurse Redfern.

"She does have an uncanny resemblance to the Rose in my journal, doesn't she?" His tone was slightly awed. "It's like…she jumped out of my dreams…"

Nurse Redfern grimaced at that. "Right you are, John," she said quietly.

Rose's lips could only form an, "Eh?" What? She was a…dream?

_Not at all, Little Wolf, _Sidrat reassured her, _Far from it. Just…stay away from the journal, yeah? Make sure you don't see it. _

"Oh!" John exclaimed, and Rose winced at the noise. "Well… I've been having dreams. Mad, beautiful dreams of far off places and adventures… and there's a girl called Rose in them. Some of them. She…she dies later on, which is strangely heartbreaking—seeing my—_a _dream girl die. But you look just like her. Even wearing the same odd clothes she was wearing. It's so strange, but so familiar…" He trailed off. "I can show you my journal, if you want" he added, almost hopefully.

_Stay away from the journal. _Rose shook her head with an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she said, "but I don't want to… compare myself to this fictional girl from your dreams. She's not me, and I don't want her to dictate who _I _am because that's how_ she_ acts." This was only half a truth; Rose knew that the girl in his journal was her, and she desperately wanted to know what her past was, and what happened to her. But now was definitely not the time; she could barely concentrate with the pain in her head.

John's face fell and it felt like someone punched her in the gut. They just stared at each other in silence for a moment until Nurse Redfern cleared her throat.

"Um…maybe later, when my memories come back, yeah?" She said, and John nodded mutely.

He inhaled sharply, then smiled at her kindly. "Well—I best be off. Nice to meet you, Miss Rose." He offered his hand to her

"And you too, John Smith," Rose murmured, placing her hand in his. It felt _right_, like the flesh on his skin was molded for her hand and for her hand alone. For a moment, her headache was gone. But then, they shook, and John left the infirmary, Rose staring after him. There was a slight look of wistfulness on her face.

…**.Aaaaannd, I'm gonna end it there. Next up, John's point of view! I really hope you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope I can figure out a decent original plot for it, soon. Speaking of plots, I've been working on a fic that actually has one! Hurray! It's called "Demons and Wolves," and it's an AU that takes place during The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit. Because honestly, how awesome would it be if the Bad Wolf took on the Devil? **

**Also, should my chapters be longer? Shorter? If my chapters are longer, they'll take more time to update but they'll also be better quality… and more stuff to read. I'm kinda torn about this one. Share your thoughts, please! **


	5. Chapter 5

**So I just watched The End of Time again… feels. Feels everywhere. But anyways, OH MY GOODNESSSSSS! 22 reviews? 29 favorites!? 83 FOLLOWERS?! Oh my gosh you guys I don't deserve you *****Tears of gratitude***** I want to thank you all for reading this! It's really improving my skills as a writer and as a self-evaluator :D This was strangely hard to start writing. I was a bit hesitant because I wasn't sure how I would portray John's thoughts about Rose. In fact, I'm still not sure about what level of romance that they'll get to. Of course John will subconsciously be drawn to her, but he's already smitten with Nurse Redfern! I don't want him to just forget her because of a familiar face arriving. Feelings don't work that way.**

**(Also, I think it would be fun to torture John a little with conflicted emotions. I'm so evil…)**

**Anyways, a lot of dream-stuff in here. Which is good, yes? No? Maybe so? Okay then…enjoy, please :D **

John Smith was a normal man. Sure, he was slightly more intelligent than the average human being, and he was fairly good-looking, but he wasn't the type of person who had strange things going on around him all the time. Until three months ago, the most unusual thing that had ever happened to him was a snow day in the late spring (which was slightly pathetic, according to his younger sister, Sarah Jane.)

Then he started to have the dreams.

The first time was the most vivid. It was a week after he had first moved here, and John was finally feeling at home. The bed didn't seem as uncomfortable as before, and random knick-knacks of his were scattered all about the room. Books were messily stacked on his desk, a deep blue bookmark sticking out of one of them—_Crime and Punishment,_ Dostoevsky.

_I really need to finish that_, John thought idly as he closed his eyes—and _dreamed._

_ He is born in the light of two suns, the orange atmosphere swirling above him. He can feel this world turning. He can feel the gravity, holding him against the ground. His mind, so fresh and new, retains every bit of information that he can find. There are libraries in his head, all empty of knowledge, but not for long._

_ He grows up. The years pass as he runs through red fields, hand-in-hand with Koschei. A mountain looms behind them, white capped and shining in the light of the suns. Koschei turns eight and insanity creeps into his mind. The mad boy tells him that there are drums in his head. He tells him that the power of Time is a song, and he has absorbed the percussion. _

_ Then he turns eight. He is afraid to look at Time, but he does so anyways. The swirls of temporal energy drill into his mind, and he runs away, the knowledge of Everything still burning in his head. _

_ He only goes a little bit mad. _

John had opened his eyes, breathing heavily. It was 3:00 AM and he was too wound up to go back to sleep. He straightened and cleaned the rest of his already tidy room, and finished _Crime and Punishment. _It managed to get his thoughts off the dream for a while, and by the time he finished it, it was time for work.

He kept dreaming.

_He has a grandchild. Her name is Arkytior, and she is as beautiful as the flower that she's named after. He cradles her in his arms. _

_ "We'll travel together, my dear," he whispers. "We'll see the stars." _

John bought himself a book, called it his journal of impossible things. As the dreams went on, they seemed less and less impossible.

_"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says, gazing in wonder at the room. It's antique, but there's no dust on the console. As he examines the ancient machine, it seems to hum. It seems to choose him. _

_ So he steals it and runs away._

John had borrowed more and more books from the library, tracing the words over as he struggled to distract himself from the dreams. It wasn't working.

_He's still running, running in his TARDIS. He has different faces, and she has different consoles, but they are the same. They are the same beings that keep running, running because the universe is scary and they can go anywhere._

_There are some who join him. Arkytior is the first. She is called "Susan" now. Ian and Barbara, they join them too, in the magic blue box that can take them anywhere._

_They all leave. They all do._

_Faces flash through his mind. He catches glimpses, hears a soft female voice, tearing into multiples, splitting and coming back together, a woman's song interlaced with deep bass of men. Some English, some Scottish, an American one here and there, too. These are the voices of his companions. This is the song they sing, their swan song as they wither to dust and he keeps on living, traveling, breathing in the stars. _

_They all leave. Or is it him who does that?_

"I don't want to ever leave this place," he told Martha the following morning. He had thought that it was strange how her shoulders suddenly stiffened at those words, like she knew that wasn't the case. John shrugged it off. Martha was always a bit odd around him.

_The orange sky has gone out. _

_The red fields are now filled with fire, and there are metallic voices everywhere, screaming "EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!" It is chaos; time itself being ripped apart by metal monsters._

_He can't let them live; if he lets them live, the universe would be destroyed by their wrath. _

_A terribly familiar lever catches his eye, standing white and cruel against the dark hues of his console. _

_So this is his punishment. For abandoning his home and stealing the magical blue box. He can hear the cries of his people, the screams of "EXTERMINATE!" And he can feel the lever taunting him. _

_"It's the only way," it whispers in his ear. Or is that his subconscious? "Create a time lock and let the problem heal itself." He shivers, numbness creeping up his toes in horror. He would be a monster. A murderer. He and Romana had discussed it, as a last resort to kill the Daleks (oh, what a horrible conversation that was) but he never_ dreamed_ that he would actually have to _do_ it. He can practically see his friend, smiling sadly at him and telling him to do what needs to be done. _

_She is the last thing on his mind as he closes his eyes and kills everybody._

John called in sick the day after. He laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. Martha found him that way.

"I dreamt I was a madman, and I slaughtered my family," he explained to her while she wiped his brow with a washcloth. It was much, much more complicated than that, but Martha couldn't possibly understand the ideas of distant worlds—filled with life and terribleness.

Martha looked at him sadly. "You're not that man, John," she said soothingly, but John wasn't comforted. He wasn't sure he believed her.

-:-:-:-

_This is the first time he's stepped in 21st century London for a while. He dons a leather jacket over his simple jumper (hmm, not bad) and casually walks out of the blue box, whistling slightly. _

_No one pays him any notice, thankfully. He can feel the bomb, dangerous and ready to go off, pressing against his chest. _

_It's dark out. They'll be moving around, soon. They like the dark. _

_His screwdriver picks up something and whirrrrs. He steadies it until the whirring grows strong and constant. He looks at the source of the disturbance with understanding. _

_Of course. Time to go clothes shopping. _

That was the first dream that picked up where it had left off. As soon as John drifted off the next night, he became someone else, mere minutes after he had decided to investigate "Henriks Department Store." Whatever kind of store _that_ was.

_The shop's just closing up. He cleverly maneuvers around the security guards (he hides in the piles of malfunctioning clothing) and swiftly disables the cameras (they broke on their own, honest!) before heading downstairs (and also tripping over his new feet. Blimey, they're huge. Good for running, though.)_

_He creeps around for a few minutes before coming across a body. The man has a look of surprise on him, even in death, as if he's still staring at the living plastic that broke his neck. Electricians are supposed to appear tough, but the human being lying dead on the ground looks so vulnerable and _small.

_He closes the man's eyes before continuing. _

_Then he hears a girl. She sounds impatient, searching for a guy called "Wilson." The plastic finds her, of course; she's being much too loud for them not to. He sees her as he rounds the corner, and she's backed up against the wall, about to be killed by mannequins. He moves quickly and stealthily towards her, arm outstretched. _

_His hand finds hers, and it's been so long since he's held somebody's hand and it feels strange but really, really right. _

"_Run," he tells her, and they do._

As the dreams progressed, John learned more and more about his dream-self. His name was the Doctor, and he was a man who was not a man. He had two hearts that were constantly being broken, and a mind that held ice and fire and fury and knowledge… and love. And sadness; mostly because he loses the ones that he loves. He always does.

The most recent one to leave him was the girl he told to run. John had the dream about her death a few weeks after they first started. It was the worst nightmare he had ever had; save for the one where he destroyed his home planet. The dream came in choppy sequences, flashes of bright lights and haphazard thoughts mixed with the all-too-familiar feeling of dismay.

_ She's reaching._

_ No. No please no. _

_ She swallowed the universe, and now it's getting its revenge. It wants to be rid of her. It wants her to die._

_ Please. She promised him forever. Please._

_ Her fingers slip._

_ She scattered her name on petals through time. Time and space. _

_ Oh please oh Rassilon no._

_ She's in a halo of white light, fading into nothing and he's dead, surely dead because living shouldn't ever feel this terrible—_

_ Her name is caught on his lips._

_ She scattered it on petals through time._

_ He screams at the walls and mad, half-made plans form in his mind to kill himself because this is Gallifrey all over again, except there's no brilliant shop girl to comfort him this time—_

_Rose petals through time._

_Rose. _

John woke up, sobbing her name over and over again—the girl in his dreams, the girl who was both a stranger and the one closest to him. His Rose. He managed to compose himself before Martha came in with his breakfast. Just barely. Then she left and he called in sick again, the anxiety in the pit of his stomach refusing to go away.

From then on, the dreams were tinged with a hint of longing, a whisper of melancholy that he shoved away because he was alright. He was always alright.

-:-:-:-

He had to say that the dreams of Rose had infused guilt into him like poison. Mainly when he was around Matron Redfern—Nurse Redfern—Joan. Because every time he was with the pretty nurse, he felt a wiggle in his hearts—_heart._ And then he thought of the dreams, where the Doctor experienced the same feelings when he was in the presence of his precious girl.

John never understood why the visions were haunting him this way. They felt so real, so _tangible_ that they were like secondary memories; outlining a life he had never lived. He was very sure that nobody else had these kinds of dreams. He just couldn't grasp it.

Or at least that was the case until Rose herself arrived. He was sure that he had gone into shock when he first saw her. The spectacle of her—all alive and pink and yellow—made something deep inside of him simultaneously sink in joyous relief and become wary of Rose, because it was impossible that she would be here.

The girl had been so unpredictable. One minute she was assuming the identity of Rose—she didn't even know if her real name was that! —And the next, she was refusing to read his treasured journal because she didn't want to _compare herself to the fictional girl from his dreams._ Because looking _exactly_ like her and taking her name wasn't comparing herself to Rose _at all._

John sighed as the final bell rang and class was dismissed. It had been a long day; he couldn't concentrate on anything besides Rose. How was it possible to wrap his mind around something so absurd? He had never seen her before, except in his dreams, and mere _days _after he dreamt of her death, she appeared out of nowhere.

For the rest of the day, he sat in his old rocking chair, just thinking. By the time the moon was shining brightly in the night sky, he was too deep in thought to notice anything else.

Not even the green light bursting to life in the sky.

-:-:-:-

"_Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really men must, I think, have great sadness on earth." _

― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

**Um…yep. Sorry for the twenty-something-day break. But hopefully I'll get everything done faster from now on! Who would you like to narrate the next chapter? What do you think would be changed by Rose's arrival in 1913? Do you think that the Doctor (the one in the fob watch) has realized her presence yet? Thank you so much for your support, and please review! **

**-Kylie**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the wait, guys, but I finally got around to it! And guess what?! I HAVE OVER 100 FOLLOWERS FOR THIS STORY –****cries tears of rainbows and butterflies— YOU ARE HONESTLY THE BESTEST AND I WANT TO GIVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU AN INTERNET HUG. Enjoy this chapter and Martha's point of view!**

* * *

Martha strode purposefully towards the infirmary, a wash bucket in hand and a cloth in the other. The medical wing needed daily cleaning, and Martha had volunteered to do the job, to the surprise of her coworkers. Of course, they didn't know that Martha intended to do a little less cleaning and a little more talking than was the norm.

She walked into the room, ducking her head instinctively, as she had learned to do over the course of two months. She clenched her teeth at the degrading posture she was modeling, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do. She looked up slightly to see Matron Redfern rummaging in a cupboard; her starchy dress swinging slightly as she searched.

"Ma'am," Martha murmured, and looked to the other person in the room before she could see the nurse's reaction. There she was. Sitting up in bed, staring at nothing.

Her mascara was smudged, her hair snarly and tangled, and her modern-day clothes were still on. Then, as if she could sense that she was being watched, her striking hazel eyes met Martha's. Martha held her gaze for a moment, but then stared down at the floor. There was something feral about those eyes; they were strangely unnerving.

"Ah, there we are," Nurse Redfern said, producing a gown. "We'll get you out of those strange clothes soon enough."

Martha dropped to her knees and started to scrub at the floor. She heard the swish of the matron's dress as she passed her, the whisper of exchanged fabric and a quiet "ta," in a soft Cockney accent.

Martha wished that the nurse would hurry up and leave already, so she could talk to this girl, but Matron Redfern seemed to have no intention of parting. So there was only the sound of clothes being pulled on and the scratchy sound of the floors being scoured as time passed. When the girl was finished dressing (she seemed to have a bit of trouble with it) Nurse Redfern checked her pulse and listened to her breathing, declared her healthy, and then announced that she was going to get lunch, and that she would be back in a half an hour.

Martha sighed in relief as Nurse Redfern exited; she sat up and wiped her forehead, stretching her legs.

"Not really a fan of cleaning, are you?" An amused voice sounded behind her.

Martha turned around to the girl, who had a faint grin on her face.

"Not really," Martha admitted, her own smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You should see my room back at home. Books and clothes everywhere!"

The girl laughed, and Martha extended her hand. "My name's Martha. Martha Jones. Nice to meet you."

"My name's Rose. Dunno if I have a last name or not, yet," she said, taking Martha's hand and shaking it, oblivious to Martha's suddenly pale complexion.

_Rose?_

As in, Rose-who-must-not-be-mentioned-under-any-circumsta nce-unless-you-want-the-Doctor-to-get-furious?

As in, Rose, the girl that Martha had been curious about (and jealous of) since she discovered her room while wandering around the TARDIS?

That Rose?

Martha still remembered that day. She had never been so properly afraid of the Doctor then she had been when he discovered her in Rose's room…

-:-:-:-

_The soft hum of the TARDIS accompanied the muffled sound of Martha's footsteps as the girl explored the great ship. She scanned the halls, looking for something interesting to discover. She had found the library in the hour before, and had almost fallen into the swimming pool, but she kept going on, wondering what else was hiding inside the massive vessel._

_Martha stopped by a mahogany door, the wood marked with a series of circular marks that ran across the surface. Martha suspected that this was the Doctor's bedroom, but she didn't want to invade his privacy, so she turned away to a simple white door across from his, instead. It was nothing special; it was plain with a golden handle, and it had the word "ROSE" carved in it. Underneath the name, a note was taped to the door, reading, "KNOCK before entering…this means you, Doctor."_

_Curious, Martha knocked. Was someone else living on here and the Doctor didn't tell her?_

_There was no response, however. Her inquisitiveness taking over, Martha opened the door. Inside was a medium-sized room, painted a light yellow. It was semi-messy, knick-knacks and makeup cluttering the dresser in the corner. The bed with the pink duvet wasn't made. Pictures were taped to the walls, some of people, some of alien sceneries. Clothes were still in the hamper, a few jackets scattered across the room and—this made Martha's breath catch—a pair of men's converse laid by the bed._

"_What are you doing in here, Martha?"_

_She whirled around to see the Doctor glaring at her, his face uncharacteristically hard._

"_I…I was just exploring, and I saw this room—" Martha started, but the Doctor cut her off._

"_You have no business being in here. Get out," he snapped._

"_You're not giving me a chance to explain!" Martha said furiously, and the Doctor took a step forward. She flinched slightly._

"_Get. Out," He said quietly, but Martha could tell that he was livid. And sad. And he wasn't going to say it again._

_She left the room, the door slamming behind her, and a question plaguing her mind—who was Rose?_

-:-:-:-

Unfortunately, she had never gotten the chance to look her up. It was adventure-after-adventure-after-adventure with the Doctor, and she wasn't too sure that the TARDIS would be of any help looking up Rose.

When the Doctor and Martha saw each other next, it was all awkward silences and a shared determination to ignore theelephant in the room. Soon, the issue of Rose had faded to the back of their minds, lingering, but not so obvious as it was before.

"Martha?"

The soft voice jerked her back into reality.

"Oh—sorry—zoned out for a little bit,"

Martha said apologetically to Rose. The girl's full lips tilted into a smile, and Martha enviously wondered for a moment how often those lips had touched the Doctor's. She mentally shook herself. This girl might not even be the Doctor's Rose! Rose was a fairly common name.

"So..." Martha said awkwardly, scratching the back of her head, speculating on how she would ask Rose about how she got to 1913. Maybe she could approach the subject subtly… yes, that would be best…but how?

"When did you come from?" Martha blurted out.

Okay. So much for subtlety.

Rose looked confused. "Do you mean, _where_ did I come from?" she asked. "Because I don't know. I don't remember anything besides my name, and I had to get a little help with that."

Martha winced inwardly. Okay. A time traveling amnesiac. How was she going to handle this?

"Uh…yes," Martha said hastily. "Sorry, slip of the tongue."

Rose nodded. "Oh, yeah," she said, "I can understand that." She paused for a moment, as though listening to something that Martha couldn't hear. "Martha Jones, when are _you_ from?" she asked, and smiled as though she _knew _Martha's secret_._

"2007," Martha deadpanned, struggling to keep the panic down; "I travel through time in a tiny blue box with a man who has a serious obsession with Con—Plimsolls."

Rose laughed. "I like you, Martha Jones," she said.

"Mm," Martha said, shifting uncomfortably. She needed some air. Rose frowned at her. "Are you sure you're okay?" She asked. Martha grimaced.

"Not sure," she said, scratching the back of her head. "I feel a bit nauseous… But I have to finish the cleaning."

Rose's tongue poked out between her teeth as she smiled. She suddenly looked very mischievous. "I could say that I kicked you out because I wanted some privacy…?"

"That would work," Martha said, her own smile appearing. "Have a good day, Miss Rose."

"You too, Martha," the girl replied.

That night Martha skipped her usual meeting with Jenny to contemplate who exactly Rose was. Was she really the girl who lived in the yellow room? Or was it just a coincidence?

Maybe tomorrow she would visit the TARDIS. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. She could search for records of the Doctor's Rose. See if they were the same person…yes, yes, that was what she would do.

Martha was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't see the green lights flash through the window.

-:-:-:-

The next day, Martha was watching the Doctor's prerecorded video to her. "Eurgh, this doesn't help! You're no help at all!" Martha said to video-Doctor, having the extreme urge to slap his handsome virtual face.

She pressed a few buttons, hoping that she wouldn't accidentally put a dent in time. Lucky for her, she had an affinity for pressing the right buttons, and a keyboard popped out of the console. "Yes!" Martha cheered.

She wondered what she should type.

She tried "Rose" but apparently the TARDIS search engine had even more results than Google, so she was presented with 50 billion hits in less than a second. Martha groaned; this was going to be a long process.

Eventually, Martha got a result after many combinations of keywords ("Rose blonde companion twenties doctor"). It was a folder on the TARDIS database, simply labeled "Wolf." Whatever that meant.

There were several pictures of the girl on there, and Martha let out a small, "Yay!" at accomplishing her mission. There was a list of documents, too, holding records of her. Martha clicked on the fist one, scanning through the eyes widening with every word.

_**THE SUN NEWS ARTICLE — HAVE YOU SEEN ROSE TYLER?**_

_On March 6__th__, 2005, Rose Tyler, 19, went missing. She was last seen with her boyfriend, Michael Smith, 23, and an unknown man going by the name of "the Doctor." She is believed to be in imminent danger. If you have any information on Rose's whereabouts, please _call 0207—946000.

The next article was dated a little over a year later.

_**THE SUN NEWS ARTICLE – CITIZENS OF LONDON MOURN THE DEAD AFTER ALIEN INVASION**_

…_Among many of the dead is Rose Tyler, 21, who was personal friend of Prime Minister Harriet Jones and one of the brave men and women who gave their lives to put an end to the alien invasion. Her mother, Jacqueline Andrea SuzettePrentice Tyler, 40, and boyfriend, Michael Smith, 25, were also killed at Canary Warf._

The next document surprised Martha. It was a TARDIS-recorded text file.

**TARDIS OFFICIAL COMPANION DATABASE**

**NAME:** ROSE MARION TYLER

**ALIASES:** BAD WOLF, DAME ROSE OF THE POWELL ESTATE, THE VALIANT CHILD, ROSIE, SHIVER, BLONDIE

**DOB:** 1ST APRIL, 1986

**DOD:** 8TH JULY, 2006/UNKNOWN

**BIRTHPLACE:** LONDON

**SPECIES:** UNKNOWN

**MARITAL STATUS: **NONE

**AMOUNT OF TIME SPENT AS COMPANION: **742 EARTH DAYS

Martha paused at all the "UNKNOWNS" in the file. Something as simple as a species name was easy enough for the TARDIS to catalogue; and what was with the "UNKNOWN" in the date of death? There was something wrong here…

And then, finally, a video popped up.

It was some sort of footage, a white room with two levers on opposite walls. Martha watched as the Doctor came into view, followed by Rose. The audio was scratchy, but Martha could make out Rose saying, _"Which one's shiver?"_

"_Oh, I'm Shake," _The Doctor said. Martha could tell that he was giving Rose one of those heart-melting smiles of his.

They both attached black handle-looking thingies to the walls, where they stuck like magnets. They pulled the levers back and there was the sound of wind as a glowing portal appeared on the wall adjacent to both of the levers.

The wind picked up, and Martha could make out blurred figures being sucked into the light. The Doctor and Rose clung to the magnets, the wind pulling at them both.

Something went wrong on Rose's side, and she let go of her magnet to hold on to the lever, pushing it back to its original position.

And then she let go.

And then she vanished.

Oh God.

Martha jerked back as she heard an unearthly wail echo through the sound system, loud and agonized. It was the Doctor. The glowing light had receded, and he ran to the wall, beating his fists against it.

_"No no no no NO!"_ He screamed, "Take _me! _Take me instead of her!" And Martha had never heard anyone sound so devastated, not ever...

She turned off the monitor, her blood rushing in her ears, her face turning red. No wonder he had been upset when she had found Rose's room. He had obviously loved her, and she had died. And Martha had intruded on her room.

Or at least, everyone had thought she had died and somehow she ended up in 1913 with no memory. How exactly did that happen?

Well, Martha Jones wasn't one to leave questions unanswered. She was going to find out exactly who Rose Tyler was, whether Rose liked it or not.

Things were about to get interesting.

* * *

**Yes. Yes indeed, Martha. So I have a few things that I wanna point out…I probably won't remember them all.**

**The Doctor thinks that Rose is dead, and right now, it's too painful for him to mention her to anyone. That's why Martha didn't find out about her until she found her room.**

**Nonetheless, the Doctor was disrespectful to Martha even when Rose was alive… having her dead will make him even more emotionally unstable and rude. So that's why he's acting that way in the flashback. Poor Martha.**

**And that's also why Martha isn't very confident yet near the beginning of the chapter—blurting out information she shouldn't, wondering what to do—the Doctor hasn't given her the opportunity to put herself out there yet. We see her willful character in the flashback (which is yet again shot down by the Doctor) and her shrewd and determined side at the very end there. Needless to say, there will be a lot of character development in the *****cough cough sequel cough***

**Converse shoes didn't come out until 1917—that's why Martha amended it to Plimsolls. She does her research XD**

**Thank you for reading! Next chapter is short one, with a "guest" point of view…any guesses to whom it is? **

**Reviews are like bowties. Unbelievably cool, and the Doctor approves of them! So why not write one on the way out? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Gahhhh, I'm so sorry! I had this done for a while and I forgot to upload it! Anyways, I have decided that anything from the Doctor's point of view will be in present tense. Yep…**

**Thank you guys soooo much for the faves, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot to me!**

* * *

He has been sleeping for a long time now.

He's wrapped up between two layers of gold, gears churning through his thoughts, although they are broken where he lies.

He is small. _So small._

-:-:-:-

He sits on a mantle, silently listening through the _tick, tick, ticks, _of time passing both rapidly and listlessly, and he doesn't like what he hears. It's the sound of nightmares and waking up with sweat on the brow, repressed memories springing to life in dreams. As an unfamiliar man ran through time in a human man's mind, he begins to forget whom that unfamiliar man is.

Doctor?

_Doctor who?_

-:-:-:-

He realizes that he can't tell how much time has passed. The _tick, tick, ticks _are meaningless, an unsteady beat that has been going on forever, inside this puny watch. A bit small, to hold a mind like his, but there are magic words written on the outside to keep him in. He forgets why the magic words don't want him to escape, but he knows he is so close, so close to being able to just _let go…_

In a white room, he screams to hold on.

_Hold on._

-:-:-:-

A hand grasps his cage, and time begins again, but only for a moment.

_Two months, four days, 18 hours, 29 minutes, 12.43 seconds._

Time is gone now, but he knows that he is almost done hiding. _So close…_

He swirls in between the frozen second hand, knocking at the unmoving gears. It's getting cramped in this small, insignificant-looking fob watch, and he wants out.

The hand clears his thoughts. For a second, he can see the gold, the magic words etched onto a circle, and then he is back to a swirling mass of energy. There is a mind with him now.

_My name is Timothy, _it whispers to him. _What's yours?_

-:-:-:-

Timothy sees his burning, his coldness, and his fury. Timothy sees his losses, and he sees his agony as his friends fade to dust. He lashes out as he relives his most terrible moments, screaming in the young boy's head. Timothy Latimer sees him for who he really is, and Timothy Latimer is scared out of his wits.

He doesn't blame him.

* * *

**I just realized how short this is… hm…whatever. Thank you so much for reading!**

**Reviews are like…the opposite of monks. Because they are most definitely cool.**


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